


Wandering Comfortless Streets - Destiny-tober 2020

by jsmulligan



Series: Destiny and Destiny 2 Stories [8]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Destiny, Destinytober (Destiny), Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 10,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsmulligan/pseuds/jsmulligan
Summary: Using Destiny-tober prompts from Newbabyfly to piece together a story.  A civilian of the Last City is dead and a Guardian stands accused.Rated T for Destiny.Cross-posted to fanfiction.Do not post to other sites.
Series: Destiny and Destiny 2 Stories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1473884
Comments: 16
Kudos: 11





	1. Your Guardian

Your Guardian

TYPE: Conversation  
DESCRIPTION: Interrogation [HIGH PRIORITY]  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Detective Logan Goodwin, Last City Police Department [LG]; One [1] Ghost type, designated Critter [C]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Murder; Guardians; Civillians; Last City  
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[LG] So, your Guardian’s not exactly the best around, is he?

[C] Of course he is.

[LG] All Ghosts say that. It’s like a parent who never wants to admit their kid is bad, or dumb, or ugly, but we know those people exist, right? However, let’s look at the facts. How many fireteams has your Guardian been kicked out of?

[C] I don’t-

[LG] Of course you do. How many?

[C] Three.

[LG] And why was he kicked off of three fireteams.

[Silence, mechanical clicking sounds.]

[LG] I need you to answer the question.

[C] His temper.

[LG] His temper?

[C] Yes.

[LG] So we have a Guardian who is known for losing his temper, and, if I recall correctly, he actually killed one of his teammates while in the field in the last one, correct?

[C] That wasn’t his fault. It was a new team, he didn’t know that Titan would rush in-

[LG] Then your Guardian is an idiot. Titans always rush in. Regardless of intent, it happened. So, I’m really curious as to why I should believe your assertions that your Guardian didn’t kill Albert Brann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. I saw the list for Destiny-tober prompts and got some inspiration to write. Thought it might be a nice way to knock off some rust before getting back to my other stories (and I have every intention of finishing These Walls Grown Cold and Dust to Dust and Memories, thanks for your patience there.) At first, I was going to do these as a series of random shorts like Destcember last year or Tales We’ll Tell, but then I got the idea to have them weave together an interconnected story. We’ll see how it goes. Hope you enjoy!


	2. Your Ghost

Your Ghost

Jackal-9 was seated at a plain, metal table in a nondescript room, with bare walls only broken by a large mirrored surface. He slumped forward, his metal head resting against the table, the blue glow of his optics shining dimly and reflecting from it. His arms were encased in black, bulky devices, which were then attached to a larger, similar device around his chest. It was designed to dampen his Light, and based on technology found in scraps of the device the Cabal had used to cage the Traveler during their invasion.

There wasn’t even an obvious door anywhere in the room, but he remembered where he had entered, and his optics were fixated on that spot. Eventually, a tiny gap appeared, then two sections of the wall parted, allowing two people to enter. One was human, not risen, and wearing a blue three-piece suit. The other was a Guardian, a Titan by the looks of her, dressed in black, Vanguard-issued armor, no insignia, nothing to give away her identity. She strode across the room, not even looking at him, then took up position somewhere behind him. The human sat down directly across from him and looked him up and down.

“Who are you?” the Exo asked.

“My name is Detective Logan Goodwin. I’m with City PD. I was hoping you would answer some questions for me.”

“I’ve already told the Vanguard everything,” Jackal replied, his optics flicking toward the mirror, wondering who was watching. “Not that anyone in charge right now would care what a Hunter has to say anyway.”

“I spoke with your Ghost the other day...” Logan began, which got Jackal’s attention. His optics flashed brightly for a second.

“Critter? Where is she?” The Exo started to rise, and the faceless Titan behind him stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and forcing him into his seat.

“The Praxic Order have her,” the detective answered, “but they let me speak with her. She is, of course, adamant that you are innocent.”

“I am.”

“I would like some clarification as to why she was not with you on the night of the incident.”

“She always leaves when we get to the Tower,” Jackal said with a shrug. “She never tells me where she goes. Somewhere with other Ghosts.”

“With other Ghosts?”

“If I may,” the Titan spoke up, her voice heavily modulated by the helmet she wore. “There are rumors of a sort of ‘Ghost Speakeasy’ in the Tower where they supposedly gather to share gossip.”

“I see,” Goodwin replied, making a note.

“No one has ever confirmed it,” the Titan said.

“I think I need to have another talk with your Ghost,” Goodwin said. “Find out about this ‘Speakeasy’.”

“You leave her alone!” Jackal yelled, hopping up and slamming his manacled hands on the table. Instantly, the Titan was on him, slamming him to the ground. Logan stood, watching the scene.

“You should watch that temper, Guardian.”


	3. Off Duty

Off-Duty

The day of the murder, Jackal-9 had been off-duty. Like many Guardians, he visited several different bars and restaurants in the City frequently, though not always the most common Guardian hang-outs. That night, he had been at the Jolly Dragon Bar and Grill, a smaller establishment located in Core South that only drew the occasional Guardian. It didn’t get many non-Guardian Awoken or Exos either, catering primarily to humans.

It was a brick building, fairly nondescript other than the flashing sign of a mythical dragon, or maybe an Ahamkara, animated to look like it was smiling and winking at passers-by. Logan Goodwin stood across the street, watching for a few minutes, judging the flow of vehicle and foot traffic through the area. Eventually, he crossed the street and walked through the wooden door.

The smell of smoke was the first thing he noticed. Tobacco was something of a rare and precious commodity still, so the smell instantly stood out. Goodwin glanced around the room, locating the source as a heavy-set man laughing at a pool table, puffing at a cigar, while another man held his cue and bent over the table to line up a shot. There was a moderate amount of background noise from conversations.

The other thing that stood out to him immediately was the row of television screens. They were all dark. Normally, a place like this would have several different Crucible matches on the screen with people at the bar making wagers.

The hostess, a young-looking brunette with a large, fake smile greeted him, and Goodwin requested a booth toward the far corner. It would give the best view of the room. He needed to ask around a bit, but wanted to get a feel of the place first. The waitress approached, and Logan ordered an appetizer and a non-alcoholic beverage. He was still on duty after all. It was some sort of fruit tea she guaranteed him was a house favorite, and it was actually pretty good.

Goodwin ate his fries, drank his tea, and watched. After a while, he moved over to the dart board so as not to wear out his welcome holding up a table. The evening was fairly uneventful, until an armored figure stepped into the door.

A Guardian. Titan, to be exact. She walked in, and instantly the room went silent. That seemed to catch her off guard, and she paused, helmeted head moving back and forth as she took in the crowd.

The bartender hurried out from behind the bar, scurrying over to her. “You need to leave,” he said as he drew close.

“What do you mean?” she asked, taking off her helmet, revealing a confused face. Blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders.

“I mean, you need to get out of here,” he said, more harshly this time. “After what happened to Al? Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

There was a murmur from the crowd, most of which seemed to be in support of the bartender. Anger was visible on many faces. A few of the larger men at the bar actually stood up and shifted slightly in her direction. Logan put down the dart in his hand, letting it drift toward his sidearm, just in case.

“Get out,” the bartender said again, making a shooing motion with his hands. The confused Titan turned and left. The men sat back down. Conversations continued, mostly focused on the Guardian, and the faces around the room showed anger or confusion.

All except for one.

Was that a smile?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Netraptor and Phantomxwolf for the kudos!


	4. Jump Ship

Jump Ship

The first thing to remember when trying to get somewhere you don’t belong is to act like you do. People will notice someone who acts hesitant. Confidence, on the other hand, will not draw attention.

So the figure strides into the hangar bay without a hitch in their step, not glancing around at anyone, not fiddling with the package they hold in their hands. Strong, confident steps past workers. A familiar nod given to people they did not actually know who wore the same uniform, though the others were probably not stolen. Past Amanda Holliday who directs a crew to repair a damaged NLS drive.

Saint-14 is busy feeding his pigeons and… was that a chicken standing over them? Past him and to the right is the stairwell leading down to where the ship is being held. No sentry because who would dare break into the Tower?

There, the jump ship on lockdown. A quick glance to make sure the coast is clear, then the figure walks to it. A device is placed near the hatch. Lights flash, there is a quiet beep, and the door slides open. The figure disappears into the ship, then reemerges a moment later.

The cardboard package, now empty, is broken down and added to a pile of materials. The figure follows the same path back out of the hangar, and is gone.


	5. Cabal

Cabal

“So why isn’t Ross on this one?” Detective Eve Deighton asked as the car moved through the streets of the Last Safe City. She was travelling with Detective Logan Goodwin to interview a potential witness in his murder case. Since this witness also had possible connections to a case she was investigating, she had insisted on coming along. “I mean, he’s a Guardian. Shouldn’t he be involved in case super-powers get involved?”

“The fact that he’s a Guardian is precisely why he isn’t involved,” Logan replied, taking the car through a left turn. “You’ve seen what’s going on in the City. Repeated attacks. Curfews put in place. People are not very happy with Guardians and the Vanguard right now. Can you imagine if we had a Guardian investigating a Guardian accused of murder, and then he is let off the hook? There’d be riots.”

“Good point,” Eve stated.

“Besides, I think Ross is off planet right now.”

“Bet that’s an interesting answering machine message. ‘Sorry I can’t take your call right now, I’m out saving the Earth from alien invasion. Leave a message and someone with the department will get back with you soon. In case of emergency, please dial 911.’”

Logan coughed out a small laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll take the City streets any day.”

They reached their destination, and Logan parked the car on the side of the street. The two detectives exited the vehicle, checked their surroundings, then crossed over to the construction zone on the other side of the road. A flashed badge got them a word with the site supervisor, and a moment later, a lanky, dark haired man was standing in front of them.

“Rhys Preston?” Logan asked as the foreman left.

“Yeah?”

Logan showed his badge again. “I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes about Albert Brann.”

Rhys’ eyes grew large at the name, and he suddenly lunged forward, shoving the detective and breaking into a sprint.

“Stop!” Even shouted, and gave chase. Logan followed as soon as he regained his balance.

Rhys ran down the street and turned down an alley. There was a truck parked at the intersection of it and another alley, and he was clearly trying to reach it. He pulled keys from his pocket and fumbled with them, trying to unlock the door, but Logan caught up to him before he could get the key in the slot, tackling him to the ground. There was a brief struggle between the men before Logan subdued him. He handcuffed the other man and dragged him to his feet.

Eve has circled the truck, looking at a tarp covering the back of it. She peaked underneath it, then called to Logan.

“Take a look at this.”

Logan moved to look, pulling Rhys with him. He looked to see what Eve had discovered, and his confusion must have been visible on his face, because the Narcotics Detective spoke up.

“Cabal bones,” Eve told him. “Some people grind them up and mix them into certain drugs in the City. Something about getting high from the things that nearly killed them. Guess it’s a good thing I came after all. We’re going to have a long talk, Mr. Preston.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “Ross” mentioned in this story is Maximillian Ross from NetRaptor’s “Zero to the Max” stories. They were partially the inspiration for this story and one of the main reasons it exists. You should check them out if you haven’t.


	6. Favorite Emote

Favorite Emote

Guardians. Dead freaks. Super powered zombies brought back to life by some alien power, who thought it was somehow their right to rule over us. Control us. They couldn’t even hold up their end of the bargain and keep us safe.

We were promised safety behind these walls, and yet the Fallen still raid, still get in and slaughter innocents. The Cabal walked right through the Guardians, sealed up the Traveler, and nearly wiped us out. The entire system is crawling with Cabal, Fallen, Taken, Vex, and who knows what else, and the Guardians have done next to nothing about it.

Sure, they go on their little strike missions and shoot a few, but what happens then? Nothing. All their patrols, and no ground gained. They’ve supposedly killed some “gods”, but that hasn’t changed anything.

And then they come back to their Tower, and I walk among them doing my job, and they do what? They dance. They use their fantastica Light to create popcorn buckets to pretend to eat out of, conjure tables to flip over to express their anger. Pretend to do magic tricks. While everyone else suffers and struggles down below. It’s like everything is just a big game to them. When the Almighty was on a collision course with the City and we were all doomed? They had actual games, the “Guardian Games” where they were just competing with each other to see who could complete the most bounties.

They don’t care about us, no matter what some of them may claim. They don’t even notice me as I go about my job, just another baseline human in a jumpsuit, roaming through their Tower, just part of the scenery.

Something has to change. I will make sure something changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Guest for the kudos!


	7. Solar/Void/Arc

Solar/Void/Arc

Several days prior.

“See these readings right here? That’s Void Light.”

Detective Logan Goodwin took the offered datapad and looked at the graph presented to him. Scribbled on the touch screen was a variety of scientific jargon he could not really make heads or tails of. The spiked readings on the graph did not mean much more without context.

“How do you know?” he asked, handing the slate back to the technician. The smaller man huffed, annoyed, and pointed to one of the highest spikes on the chart.

“This right here. Look.”

He pressed something, and the static report vanished, replaced by an active scan. A grid similar to the graph appeared on the screen, but the wavering line on this one was in constant flux. The technician swept the tablet back and forth, and Goodwin watched the readings shift subtly. The tech reached into a drawer and pulled out a 7.62 mm caliber round and set it on the table.

“This detects a variety of energy signatures. Watch what happens when I pass it over this bullet.”

He then swept the tablet across the bullet, then brought it back again. He repeated the motion two or three times. As the device passed over the bullet, the reading spiked, though not nearly to the level of the static image. Each pass showed the same result.

“This is a Solar round from a Copperhead-4sn sniper rifle,” he said. “Notice the small jump in activity each time the scanner passed over it. We know Guardians and some of the other races can use weapons charged with energy that is similar to, or comes from, the three forms of Light, Solar, Void, and Arc. Each one presents a different signature to our scanner.”

“So, if weapons can discharge the energy, how can we be sure someone didn’t just get ahold of a Guardians gun and shoot up the place?”

“The level of the spike,” the Technician explained. “Look at this reading compared to the original.” He swiped the images back and forth. “No amount of ammunition would present a Void spike of this magnitude. It has to do with the amount of Light, or lumens, involved. Only Guardians can generate levels close to this, and nothing spikes this high except a Guardian unleashing their super.”

“So you’re saying it had to be a Guardian on the scene?” Goodwin asked for confirmation.

“Yes. Unless you know something else that can set off a Void Light explosion of this magnitude that we are unaware of. But not even one of their rocket launchers would leave this much trace energy data.”

Goodwin nodded. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the guests for the kudos!
> 
> Running a couple days behind due to work related stuff. Trying to get caught up.


	8. Dance Party

Dance Party

Several days prior. Late evening.

Jackal-9 materialized in the Tower Courtyard and made a beeline for Master Rahool, as his Ghost Critter flittered off to wherever it was he went when they were at the Tower. While in the field, he had discovered an engram, and was hoping the Cryptach could decrypt it into something good. The Exo doubted it, however. Rahool had a reputation for disappointment, and Jackal-9 knew he wasn’t the only one who sometimes found himself wishing that maybe the Awoken man hadn’t turned back up after Towerfall and someone else had stepped into his place. The thought reminded him of Master Ives, the Cryptarch who had set up operations in the Reef and been murdered not too long ago, and he almost felt bad for wishing Rahool was no longer here.

Almost.

While Rahool worked, Jackal turned and saw a group of Guardians cavorting between where he stood and the small line of shops that included Eververse and the Post Office. There were five of them, and they were all dancing with wild abandon. As he watched, a few more Guardians approached and joined in.

A female Warlock in the middle bounced and spun, igniting pyrotechnics made of Light above the gathering, the flashes illuminating the dancers. More Guardians approached, several of whom built functioning musical instruments out of Light constructs and began to play, turning the scene into an impromptu dance party.

There was little rhyme or reason to the various motions. Most of the dance moves didn’t seem to line up with the other dancers or even the music. There were graceful twirls and spins mixed with stomps and head banging. Some of the dances seemed to involve just standing in one place and shaking a single body part.

Jackal rolled his optics and turned back to Rahool, who was finishing. The Cryptach presented him with something he didn’t recognize, and had zero use for. Of course.

“Break it down,” the Hunter grumbled. “I’ll take the glimmer.”

His business with Rahool concluded, Jackal gave one last glance to the dance party before heading towards an elevator to take him down to the City. He had a business transaction to take care of.

Unable to summon his sparrow without his Ghost, the Hunter took a hovercab, paying the driver with some of the glimmer he had received from Rahool. The cab took him to the Core South district where he exited, choosing to make the rest of his trek on foot. Once the cab was gone, Jackal made his way to his destination, his dark cloak and armor blending in with the growing darkness of the streets.

The glowing sign of the Jolly Dragon Bar and Grill flashed in the gloom. Jackal passed it across the street, only pausing long enough to reach up and pull his hood further around his head. He continued on, turning down a side alley. Behind him, a figure detached from the side of the Jolly Dragon and followed him.

Jackal-9 approached something near the back of the alley, a large shape covered with a tarp. He stopped, staring at it, then removed his helmet. The other figure approached stealthily.

“Rhys,” Jackal said, turning. His optics and mouth lights cast little bits of light around the area. Rhys Preston stepped closer and nodded, glancing around nervously.

“Calm down, my man,” Jackal said, “there’s nothing to worry about. Here’s your stuff.”

Jackal pulled the tattered sheet, revealing several boxes that he had transmitted down when his jumpship was approaching the Tower. He pried back the lid of one box, revealing bones in the dim light.


	9. Armoring Up

Armoring Up

“Hey, you want in on this or what?”

Homicide Detective Logan Goodwin looked up from his tablet to see Narcotics Agent Eve Deighton standing at his desk, looking at him expectantly.

“Want in on what?” he asked, perplexed.

“In on what? Have you not been listening?”

“No, sorry, I was reviewing information on my case.”

Deighton laughed. “You have some serious tunnel vision at times. I admire the focus. Now focus on me. We’re about to move in on the drug ring I’ve been tracking down, thanks to you and your witness having those Cabal bones. You brought me along, I’m returning the favor.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Goodwin replied without hesitation. There was definitely a connection between the two cases, and he wanted to be there in case something else came up.

“Then get the lead out,” Deighton said, patting her hand on his desk. “We’re going.”

Logan scrambled to get everything together. He put on his bullet-proof vest, sliding it over his head and pulling the straps on the side, locking the body armor in place. Then met Eva at her car and the two of them got into the vehicle. On the way, he reviewed all the pertinent information, including the floor plan of the building, the names of everyone suspected of being in there, and the details of the warrant. When they arrived, they were met by other officers who were on-site.

“They’re definitely in there,” another cop on the squad said. “We’ve had eyes on the place all day. Shipments came in the back, no one has left.”

“Good,” Deighton replied. “Let’s go.”

As silently as possible, the members of the Last City Police Department moved into position. Eve nodded at the other officer she had spoken to earlier. The next several minutes were a cacophony of broken doors, identifying shouts of, “Police,” demands for people to get down, other people scrambling to comply or flee.

Goodwin hung back, letting the officers responsible for the raid do their job. The main room was subdued, and other officers spread through the building, checking to make sure it was clear before looking for evidence. He looked to his left just in time to see one of the suspects who had been compliant suddenly shift, knocking the officer who had been searching him to the ground, a weapon appearing in his hand from seemingly nowhere. Logan barely had time to register the handcannon before the weapon roared and something struck him in the chest, knocking him to the ground.


	10. Defend

Defend

“Look at him standing there. Staring out over the City every day. I just want to shove him over the side.”

Three workers had gathered in the Tower Courtyard, their jumpsuits blending in with the rest of the rest of the civilians moving through the area. They pretended to be busy working at a damaged terminal while they spoke.

“It wouldn’t do anything,” the second figure spoke. “He would just revive, and then they would probably kill you.”

“Still, it would be a glorious few moments, watching him tumble down. Imagine the look of shock on his stupid, blue face.”

“If only we could kill his Ghost first,” the second one said. “Then it would be worth it.”

“Titans,” the third member of the group spat in disgust. “They swore to defend the City, and what happened? They let the Cabal just kick their crayon-coated teeth in and kill us.”

“That’s why we work on ways to defend ourselves. From them as well.”

The conversation turned to undirected grumbling at that point.

“Not even human anymore.”

“They don’t care about us.”

“I say we’d be better off without them and the Traveler.”

To the side, a fourth figure, equally as anonymous, listened as the ghost of a smile played across their lips. 

...

Below, in the Last City, Detective Goodwin winced, placing a hand gingerly on his chest. The vest had stopped the bullet from the hand cannon, but it had left a massive bruise. Given that the dealer somehow had a Guardian’s weapon, he was lucky that’s all that it was. He approached the lift to head to the top of the Tower, he paused.

Large, color graffiti had been sprayed on the Wall. It was an image of a figure wearing Titan armor, shoving crayons in his mouth next to the words, “Don’t worry, I’ll defend you.”

Anti-Guardian sentiment had been building, and he dreaded when word got out that one was the primary suspect in a murder, it was only going to get worse. He needed to figure out exactly what happened quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mellorine for the kudos!


	11. Sparrow

Sparrow

Before.

Jackal-9 sat astride his EV-33 Dragonrider, waiting impatiently. The green and orange sparrow swayed as he rocked back and forth. He was surrounded by five other Guardians on their sparrows, some of whom revved their engines as they waited, kicking up the red sands of Mars to swirl between the competitors. There were only a few meets left in this season of the Sparrow Racing League, and the Exo was hoping to get a few key wins down the stretch. The only Guardian he was concerned about in this draw Zillah Arvid. The Awoken Warlock had been performing well, and had already won an EV-37 Voidstreak sparrow due to performance bonuses, and was riding the machine today.

Inside his helmet, Jackal heard the voice of Amanda Holliday. “Cabal and Vex on the track,” the shipwright said in her recognizable southern drawl. “Eyes up, Guardians.”

Jackal gripped the controls of his sparrow and leaned forward, bending his knees to bring his feet up to place them on the pedals. Numbers appeared on his HUD, ticking down with a beep.

3.

2.

1.

Go.

“Get goin’!” Amanda shouted, excitement clear in her voice, and all five sparrows launched forward simultaneously.

There was a lurch as they crossed the official starting line, which boosted each sparrow forward. They raced across the uneven surface of the track, intentionally built with several rocky ramps that riders could take to try to boost over other racers. A Titan on a SV7 Lightbearer tried to sideswipe him, trying to make the aggressive play, and Jackal managed to avoid him, which caused the Titan to wobble a bit and fall behind.

Jackal was the first to hit the boost gate, surging forward again. As he did, Vex materialized, firing their weapons. That should help him maintain his lead, as the robots could not hit him, but anyone behind would have to worry about it. His faceplates shifted into the Exo equivalent of a grin. This couldn’t have started much better. He could imagine the glimmer he would be able to claim from the bets he had placed.

Racers weren’t supposed to bet on the races, of course, but if you knew who to talk to, things could be arranged. Having seen the competitor list ahead of time, he had placed a number of sizable bets on himself finishing in the top three.

“You’re in the lead, hold on!” Amanda urged him on as he rounded a bend and angled through another speed boost.

He missed the next boost, and a second later registered the sound of someone else hitting it. A glowing purple sparrow passed him, and the driver gave a mocking wave.

“Zillah,” he grumbled and leaned forward, willing his sparrow to move faster.

“I liked it better when we were in first,” Critter muttered.

“Oh, shut up,” Jackal replied.

Ahead, he could see Cabal on the track now, their jump jets propelling their fat bodies through the air. They fired at the sparrow ahead of him, and Zillah was forced to swerve, scraping against the wall and slowing her down. That gave him the opportunity to power ahead.

He passed through a structure full of Vex while hitting some boosts to launch through and finish the first lap. Lap two went very similar to the first lap, with Jackal and the Warlock battling for first for the majority of it, with the occasional other competitor providing some pressure.

Lap three. Jackal could taste that top three finish, with a valuable win in his sights. The final stretch saw the sparrow racers passing through a tunnel before emerging to pass through the Vex controlled area. As Jackal followed the curve, the Titan from earlier moved in on him again, driving straight into the back end of his sparrow.

Jackal completely lost control. The dragonrider snapped to the left, then went into a high-speed roll. The Hunter was thrown from the vehicle, striking the wall with a sickening impact. He died instantly. The sparrow itself broke apart as it rolled, catching on fire.

By the time Critter was able to revive his Guardian, the other competitors had blasted past the site of their wreck, heading for the finish line. In mere moments, Jackal had gone from first to sixth and lost the race.

He was going to owe a lot of people a lot of money.


	12. Fallen

Fallen

Before.

“So, what brings you to my Shore?”

The Fallen crime boss known as the Spider leaned over his massive abdomen, looking down at the Hunter who stood before him. His guards stood, pikes in hand watching the interloper as well, the porcupine-like quills on their armor rattling with each movement. A masked female, seemingly human in appearance, handed the Spider a tablet, which he took and glanced over.

“I, uh,” the Guardian stammered, “I was told that I could make some quick glimmer if I came out here. That you offer bounties and trade in planetary resources.”

Spider scrolled through the data on the tablet that he had been given. “Yes,” he said in his gravelly voice. “Jackal-9, is it? Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament. I believe we can… come to an arrangement.”

The Hunter visibly relaxed, and Spider handed the pad back to his associate. The large Fallen picked up an empty Ghost shell, twirling it between two hands while the other two rested on his rotund stomach.

“But before we can… further our partnership, I need to be sure I can trust you.”

“What do you mean?” Jackal asked, tensing up again.

“The other Fallen here and I,” a pause as Spider drew a hissing breath, “don’t exactly see eye-to-eye. Some of them seem to have forgotten that the Shore belongs to me. I need you to teach them a lesson.”

“And then you’ll help me?”

“And then we will discuss the potential continuation of our partnership.”

So Jackal set out on his test mission for the Spider, taking out a Captain who had been causing trouble. The Guardian made short work of the Fallen forces between him and his target, eventually finishing the Captain with a shot from his Golden Gun. Mission complete, he returned to the Spider.

“Excellent work, my Guardian friend,” the Spider wheezed. “It seems you have some use after all. Now,” he shifted his massive bulk forward, resting his weight on an elbow to lean in close. “Let’s talk about the Cabal.”


	13. Throw More Grenades

Throw More Grenades

TYPE: Conversation  
DESCRIPTION: Interrogation [HIGH PRIORITY]  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Detective Logan Goodwin, Last City Police Department [LG]; One [1] Guardian, Hunter type, designated Jackal-9 [J9]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Murder; Guardians; Civillians; Last City; Narcotics  
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[LG] We know you were involved.

[J9] I don’t know what you’re talking about.

[LG] Of course you don’t. Nevermind the fact that we had one witness give us your name before the raid, and then multiple people after.

[J9] You have no proof.

[LG] We have the word of your Ghost.

[Silence.]

[Rustling of fabric.]

[LG] See this bruise? I was shot at close range by a hand cannon. Better Devils. Bullet proof vest barely stopped it. The gun? Your Ghost identified it as belonging to you.

[J9] Not possible. My Better Devils is on my ship.

[LG] Actually, it isn’t. We got a search warrant, went through it top to bottom.

[J9] You went on my ship?

[LG] Did you think we wouldn’t search everything? No hand cannon. But we did find a few interesting things. What are the gauntlets in this picture? No one recognized them.

[J9] Because they’re one of a kind. Ahamkara touched.

[LG] that by me again?

[J9] Ahamkara. Wish dragons.

[LG] You have an Ahamkara bone?

[J9] No. An old friend. He used a wish for me. You think I’d be sitting here if I could just make magic wishes?

[LG] What’s it do?

[J9] It lets me throw more grenades.

[LG] How does that work?

[J9] Beats me. I just reach for a grenade, and it’s there.

[LG] And is that what you used to kill Albert Brann? Magic grenades?

[J9] I’ve already told you, I didn’t kill Al.

[Silence.]

[J9] Okay. Fine. Look, I can tell you about the drugs. Maybe then you’ll listen to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guest for the kudos!


	14. Weapons Loadout

Weapons Loadout

Before.

“Ahh, Guardian!” Lord Shaxx bellowed a greeting in his typical fashion. “I appreciate your efforts out there today. Always creates a buzz when someone puts together a winning streak like that. Of course, that just means the others will be trying harder to kill you next time.” The Crucible Handler let out a laugh at that.

“I’ll just have to kill them first,” Jackal-9 replied. “Maybe you have something that can help me with that?”

The Hunter held out his hand, and his Ghost appeared. Critter displayed his current balance of Crucible tokens. He’d been working to save up quite a few recently and had more than enough to afford a few rewards.

“Ah, yes. I think I have just the thing.”

Shaxx held out his hand toward Arcite 99-40, his loyal assistant. The frame reached into a supply crate, pulled something out, then handed it to Shaxx. The large Titan looked it over for a moment, grunted approval, then offered it to Jackal. The Hunter took the offering and looked at it. Better Devils. He’d been trying to get one of these for a while now.

“I want to see that thing back out in the Crucible,” Shaxx said after Jackal accepted the weapon. “Show me what you can do.”

Jackal turned from the Crucible Handler and walked away, looking at the gun. He turned the hand cannon from side to side, studying its lines and feeling the weight of the blocky gun, examining the red and white paint job. Critter swirled around, sweeping a beam over it.

“Sureshot HCS sight, flared magwell,” the Ghost stated, “and modified to carry explosive rounds. This is an excellent gun.”

“Good. Let’s go put it to work, then.”

“Should I change up your Crucible loadout, then?”

“Yeah. Pair that up with the Uriel’s Gift and let’s go find a match.”

…

Now.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know how they got the Better Devils. I don’t let anyone use it, it’s my favorite gun. Go back and ask Critter, I always have it with me, either on my hip or on my ship. Someone must have gotten on board and stolen it.”

“On your ship, which is locked down in the hangar?”

“Look, I told you everything else. Why would I lie about the gun? Shoot, the fact that you’re still sitting here with just a bruise should be proof of that.”

“How do you mean?”

“The hand cannon is modified to use explosive rounds, but I don’t keep them with it if I’m not using it. They took the gun, but not the ammo. Your vest wouldn’t have stopped explosive rounds.”


	15. Favorite Location

Favorite Location

“Ah, hello again, Detective. You’re becoming quite the regular around here.” 

Logan Goodwin glanced up at the waitress who had approached the table. Millie Barton, was her name. Young, dark hair, perpetual smile. She’d waited on him the last few times he had come by.

“And I see you’ve brought a friend this time,” the waitress continued, turning to the other side of the table where Eve Deighton was seated. “Can I get you two anything to start with? Something to drink, maybe?”

“I think this Mystic Blitz sounds interesting,” Eve said, gesturing to the drink list.

“Oh, it’s one of my favorites,” Millie replied, “though I wouldn’t recommend drinking it fast. It sneaks up on you.” She turned to Logan, “And you?”

“I’ll just have a beer,” he said, “whatever’s on tap tonight.”

“Brave man,” she said with a wink. “I’ll be right back with those.”

Logan turned his head to find Eve looking at him with an odd smile. “What?”

“I think someone has a little crush on you, Detective,” she stressed the last word.

“Ridiculous, she’s just friendly.”

“If you say so,” Eve said with a smirk. “Nevermind the fact that she skipped a table that had been here longer than we have to make a beeline for you. So, been coming here a lot, have you?”

“Yeah. For the investigation,” he replied. “Jackal came here frequently, and was here on the night of the murder. I’ve been asking around, looking for any clues, figuring out who else is a regular and might have seen anything that night.”

“And is that what we’re doing tonight?”

“No. I guess I’ve grown to like the place. Though I can’t help but think about the case.”

“Well, let me take your mind off it,” Eve said with a smile. “There’s an empty pool table over there. I rack, you break?”

The two of them made their way to the pool table. Even took the triangular rack and placed it on the table, gathering up the multi-colored balls and organizing them. She removed the rack, and Logan lined up the cue ball, taking the first shot. There was a loud clatter, and balls ricocheted in various directions. None of them ended up in a pocket, however.

“Nice break. Too bad you didn’t sink any,” Eve said. “Now watch how it’s done.”

She strode to where the cue ball had come to rest. Cue stick in hand, she leaned over, resting her hand on the felt, stick laying across it. Logan noticed the concentration on her face as she lined up a shot. His eyes trailed from there along the length of the stick, then wandered over the curve of her body. He failed to see her look back at him.

“Hey now,” she chided with a grin. “Eyes up, Detective.”

The stick surged forward, striking the cue ball and sending it across the table where it collided with the solid red three ball, which rolled into a corner pocket.


	16. Fireteam

Fireteam

Another day, another visit to the Tower. Detective Logan Goodwin had now visited the Tower more in the course of this investigation than he had in the entirety of his previous life. It was almost starting to feel commonplace. Almost.

Today, he had more interviews scheduled. This time with members of fireteams that Jackal-9 had been part of. He’d already gotten most of the story of Jackal’s time on the various teams from the Guardian’s Ghost, but there could still be some insight gleaned from talking with the others.

Knowing he would be coming up here frequently, he had rented an office just below the upper level, and this was where he set up today. He had already made contact with the various team members, and set up one-on-one meetings with each. He was not waiting long before the first showed up.

“He was a jerk.”

“He never really got involved in team activities. Always seemed to have something going on that he had to get to.”

“I’m pretty sure he stole some glimmer from me.”

“Great pilot and driver. I’ve seen him do things with ships and sparrows that I wouldn’t dare try, even knowing my Ghost could rez me after.”

“Shady. A lot of Hunters seem to engage in questionable behavior, but… I don’t know. He seemed like he had a lot to hide.”

“He was with us for a total of two strikes. The first one, he was amazing. Took out more enemies than the other two members who went with him combined. Second one, he ended up getting in a heated argument with the team leader and ditched them in the middle of the strike. That was the last time we saw him. Hmm? What was the argument about? I honestly don’t remember.”

“Angry. He would blow his top over the smallest stuff. He once tried to pick a fist fight with our Titan. It didn’t end well for him”

“Hothead.”

“Deadly fighter. Not very reliable, but if he was with you in a fight, you knew things were going to go your way.”

“Always broke. I think he had a bit of a gambling problem.”

By the end of the day, Logan had gathered quite a bit of information that backed up what he knew, but offered little in the way of new information. The mentions of glimmer and gambling did add a little credence to the story that Jackal had told him about getting involved in the City drug trade.

The next thing was to look into Jackal’s claims that someone had stolen his gun from his ship. Logan straightened up what he needed to, then headed up to the top of the Tower to visit the hangar and see what he could find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another guest to thank for kudos!


	17. Vex

“So there are the crews crawling all over the ship when it first comes in,” Roan Hackney said, pointing to a screen. The Tower Security technician was helping Detective Logan Goodwin review footage from the hangar. “Routine check ups and maintenance. After that, no one comes near until it gets impounded.”

The video sped up as Hackney skipped to the time he had mentioned. Like he said, no one approached until security arrived and secured the craft, with several people entering and exiting the plane.

“I’ll need the name of everyone who entered that ship both times,” Goodwin said.

“You really think someone would have stolen a hand cannon from a Guardian’s ship?”

“Maybe. What about after this.”

“Once it was impounded, no one should have come near it,” Hackney said, speeding through the tape again.

“Then who is that?” Logan asked as a lone technician entered the frame, walking directly to the ship. Whoever it was was carrying a long, rectangular package. They quickly boarded the ship, then emerged a few minutes later, broke down the box, and ditched it with other scrap.

Hackney scrolled back the footage, trying to figure out where the person had come from. Careful scrutiny of different angles showed that the person walked where the cameras could carely spot them for most of the journey, just an arm entering the frame here, a shoulder there. Someone had figured out limitations in their security coverage and exploited it as much as they could. No where was there a shot that could get any sort of identifying image of the individual.

“Why would someone have been putting something on the ship?” Goodwin asked himself, watching the person go through their actions for a second time. “It’s not like we’ve been looking for a murder weapon and someone wanted to plant it on him. Nothing illegal was found in the ship. I’ll need to go through the inventory of the ship again, see if there is anything that Jackal didn’t expect to be there. For now, go back to the other footage. Maybe there’s something we’re missing with the original searches.”

Hackney complied, going back to the original docking and lockdowns. Goodwin stared at the footage as it played over and over again, focusing on a different person or portion of the video each time, looking for the slightest hint of anything. Eventually, he spotted it.

“There!” he said, jabbing a finger at the screen. “Back up just a bit, then play it at a slower speed, please.”

The footage of the repair crew checking over the ship reversed, then rolled forward at half speed. One of the crew members was pushing a cart with several containers weighing it down. Checking the logs had revealed that to be Vex parts, collected as a bounty for the Future War Cult who wanted to study them for… some reason. The FWC didn’t exactly share their reasoning for anything with anyone. However, this time Goodwin spotted something.

“There’s something between those containers. Does that look like it could be a gun to you?” the detective asked.

Hackney looked at the screen, tilting his head and squinting. “I suppose it could be. And that technician matches up fairly well with our intruder. Impossible to be certain from these camera angles, but the build is nearly identical.” 

“So,” Goodwin said, straightening, “it looks like someone took something off the ship, then snuck it back on so that no one would notice that it was missing. Now we have to figure out who, what, and why.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was keeping up with this fairly well, but then things got a little crazy with work and I was struggling to think of how to fit the prompts in with the story. It will get a resolution, however, fear not.


	18. Killed by Architects

Killed by Architect

Albert Brann spent the day of his death like he did most days. He spent several hours at the shop where he worked part-time as a mechanic. With his other activities, he had no need for the money, but he genuinely enjoyed the work, it gave him a veneer of respectability, and he found that he could think, really think, while he tinkered with and reassembled machines.

When his shift was over, he clocked out and went home, cleaned up, then headed out to Check on some of his other business ventures. This eventually brought him around to the Jolly Dragon Bar and Grill. Very little of his business flowed through the area, but, much like his day job, he genuinely enjoyed the place. Many of the regular customers were there when he entered, and we waved to a couple of them before making his way to his regular booth. 

Time passed. Brann watched some Crucible matches on the screens, met with a few associates and clients, and enjoyed a meal before moving to the pool table, looking to end his evening with a few games. When no one else seemed to want to join him, he began shooting on his own, idly striking balls and attempting trick shots. It was then that the evening took a turn.

The Guardian came in.

Brann was aware of Jackal-9 both as a Guardian, and as a new face in the City’s drug trade. The Exo wasn’t exactly subtle in his dealings, and it was only a matter of time before the idiot got caught. Albert continued to shoot pool against himself, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jackal moved through the bar, exchanging pleasantries with various people. Eventually, this brought him over to Brann’s table.

“Care for a game?” the Exo asked.

Brann looked up, then struck the cue ball, sending it flying across the green felt surface to strike his target with a loud crack. “Sure.”

Albert gathered the balls from the pockets, rolling them along with those that remained on the surface, then organized them all in the rack. Once everything was in place, he removed the triangular bracket from around the balls and gestured for the Exo to go first. Jackal nodded, placed the cue ball, and took the shot. It was a short game, as Jackal did not miss often. Brann suspected it had something to do with mechanical eyes and Guardian marksmanship training.

“Eight ball, far corner,” Jackal said, gesturing with his cue. The white and black orbs cracked against each other, and the eight rolled into the announced pocket. “Too bad we didn’t place any glimmer on it, eh?” he asked, one eye blinking off and on in an Exo wink.

“I don’t make losing wagers,” Brann stated.

“Sure about that?” Jackal asked.

“Positive.”

“Well, then you might want to give up on certain endeavors,” Jackal said, “because I believe we are competitors and I always play to win.”

Albert eyed the Exo, then snorted derisively. “No, you don’t. You play like you drive, like an overeager amateur who is bound to bring others down with him when he crashes and burns.”

“That was a mistake,” the Exo growled, his grip tightening, metal fingers leaving dents in the cue.

“I like this place,” Brann said. “How about we move our conversation elsewhere before you break something.”

“Fine. Outside. Alley.”

“You first, Tin Man,” Brann said, nodding toward the door. Jackal stalked out. Brann cleaned up the table, replaced the cues, then followed a moment later.

When he stepped outside, Jackal was nowhere to be seen. Assuming he probably stepped around the building to get out of sight, Albert strode over to the alley. Still no sign of the Exo. Albert took a breath, then let it out slowly, catching the scent of cooking food and a faint hint of tobacco.

“Jackal? I thought you wanted to talk,” Albert called out.

Further down the alley, it rounded the next building, another access path that he could not see from where he stood. Thanks to the building architecture, there was actually no way for him to see anything there without fully stepping into the opening himself. He stood for a moment, and thought he heard the scuff of feet on the concrete from that direction. Brann cursed and drew a sidearm from his coat pocket.

Albert Brann walked down the alley, paused before the opening, then stepped into it. It was the last thing he ever did.


	19. Ramen Eating Contest

Ramen Eating Contest

It took some digging, but Detective Logan Goodwin managed to find a possible match to the mystery technician from the security video. Her name was Paige Middleton, and she had been working in the Tower ever since the Red War. A little more digging revealed that she had connections with people who had been charged with disorderly conduct related to anti-Guardian rallies that had happened in the City recently. There was no evidence that she had been part of them, but the connection, when coupled with sneaking something on and off Jackal’s ship, was a giant red flag.

It also turned out that she was a regular at the Jolly Dragon Bar and Grill. Where a murder had taken place. Where the key suspect, and a self-confessed drug dealer, were also regulars. Where, according to the suspect, the victim had also run illicit operations.

Shame the Dragon seemed to draw such shady clientele. He had genuinely started to like the place.

A dig through social media posts revealed that Paige was going to be joining some friends at a Ramen shop in town known as The Modern Emperor. They were one of several restaurants in the Last City that offered a challenge related to eating a specific, usually massive, meal. Between those challenges and eating contests, food challenges seemed like they were becoming a pastime to rival watching Crucible matches.

Goodwin arrived at the restaurant to find the challenge about to begin. Several of the patrons were surrounding a large central table. A young man sat at the table, soaking up the attention. He was laughing, flexing his muscles, and waving to the onlookers. Three people stood to the left of the table in a small clump, watching closely and whispering to each other. Logan recognized Paige Middleton right away.

The door to the kitchen opened, and a small cheer rose from the gathered audience. A waiter emerged, brandishing a tray bearing a massive bowl high above his head. He strode to the table and lowered it with a flourish, then made a performance of setting the bowl and utensils infront of the challenger.

Logan ignored the contest, keeping his eyes on Middleton. When she stepped away from her friends, he followed, looking for an opportunity to bring her in to talk without creating a scene. She exited the restaurant, and pulled out a hand-held communication device, calling someone. Logan exited, and the sound of the door caused his quarry to turn.

When she saw him, recognition flashed across her face. She lunged forward suddenly, shoving the door against him, then ran.

“Why do people keep doing that to me?” Logan grumbled, and launched into pursuit.

Middleton was not nearly as quick as Rhys Preston had been, and Goodwin was able to catch her. He grabbed her arm, spun her around, and in the same motion drew his badge and waved it in front of her face.

“See this? It means when I want to talk to you, you stay to talk instead of running away.”

“Let go of me,” she shouted, yanking hard against his grip. “Zombie lover. Sympathizing with those dead freaks.”

“Yeah, yeah, Guardians are the worst,” Logan said as he managed to put handcuffs on the struggling woman. “Now, let’s go have a nice, long chat about what kind of terrible things they keep on their ships that you apparently like to borrow.”


	20. Fallen Comrade

“Why did you do it?”

Logan Goodwin sat facing Paige Middleton across a bare table. They were alone in the interrogation room. So far, she had offered up little information.

“That’s a stupid question,” Paige replied, sneering at the detective.

“Maybe,” Logan shrugged, “but I figured it was worth a shot. You haven’t answered any less direct questions. So, why is it a stupid question?”

She rolled her eyes, “Because the answer is obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

Middleton glared at Goodwin, then leaned back in her chair. She crossed her arms over her chest. He returned the stare, face impassive.

“Because they let us down,” she said eventually. “The Guardians. During the Red War. All these years they promised to take care of us, promised to defend us. The Cabal showed up, and what happened? They failed us, we died, and now they have to pay. For all my dead friends.”

Logan nodded, “So the recent anti-Guardian graffiti around the Tower. These pamphlets that were passed out,” he produced a piece of paper filled with anti-Guardian propaganda from his pocket and set it on the table, “I take it you had a hand in it all?”

Paige just glared defiantly.

“ I see. So you single-handedly shifted the balance of power in a few different criminal groups to get back at some Guardians. Makes perfect sense.”

That got a reaction. “Criminal? What are you talking about?”

“Jackal-9? The Guardian you framed? Turns out, he was getting involved with the illegal narcotics scene in the City. And the victim, Albert Brann? He had his finger in all sorts of operations. Looked like he was setting himself as some low-level boss. With you taking both of them out of the picture, it’s left a vacuum.”

“I don’t know anything about any of that,” she said, shifting in her seat.

“Really?” Goodwin questioned, arching an eyebrow. “So I’m supposed to believe that you just happened to randomly target the shadiest Guardian in the Tower? And then, coincidentally, just happened to target someone like Brann to be the victim in your little scheme?”

“I didn’t ‘target’ anyone,” she said. “I didn’t kill anybody. I just took the gun.”

“Even if I believed you, that would still make you an accomplice to murder, at the very least.”

Middleton sat silent for several moments and Logan waited her out. 

“I want a lawyer,” she said finally.

“Fine,” he replied. “But, ah, one last question, if I may. Why that gun? What made it worth the effort?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. That was the gun he said to get. Said it was special. And it’s a Guardian gun, so of course it had a fancy name. He called it the Ruinous Effigy.”

“He?”

“I’m not saying anything else until I get my lawyer.”


	21. Finale

City Life

Log Entry, Logan Goodwin.

With the testimony of Paige Middleton, we were able to solve the murder of Albert Brann. The man who had put her up to stealing the weapon was Samuel Wyther, also known as ‘The Bull’. He was the man I had seen smoking the cigar at the Jolly Dragon, the one who had smirked when the Guardian had been run out of the building.

We raided his place, and found plenty of evidence. It was all a set-up to take out two rivals. Wyther, it turns out, is also not a fan of Guardians, and was able to use his ties with anti-Guardian groups to get them to do much of his dirty work for him without realizing what it was they were doing.

It turns out, the plan nearly backfired. Wyther wanted to frame Jackal-9, so his whole plan apparently boiled down to using a gun that would have been easily traced back to Jackal. One of his agents saw the exchange between Jackal and Brann, and Wyther and three of his men intercepted Jackal in the alley with stun guns. Apparently, they were able to hit him with enough electricity to overload his systems and incapacitate him. When Brann came looking for Jackal, Wyther and his men were waiting with the Ruinous Effigy.

What they didn’t know was that the gun apparently taps into Guardian’s Light in some way. When his man pulled the trigger, the gun sucked the life out of him. As he fell, the beam fired from the gun hit another man, and, “Turned him into this weird glowing thing.” The third man panicked and kicked the orb, which caused an explosion of Void Light when it hit the ground, and that is what killed Brann and created the energy that we detected at the crime scene and pointed us toward a Guardian as the culprit.

All of this caused enough of a commotion to attract attention. Wyther and his surviving underling grabbed the gun and ran, leaving an unconscious Jackal to be picked up by City police, Brann lying burned and dead, and plenty of Void energy to tie the deed to him. They then gave Middleton the gun to return to Jackal’s ship.

So now this case is wrapped, and we are left with three criminals with dreams of power taken out of the situation. Brann is dead, Wyther is in jail, and Jackal has been turned over to the Vanguard for sentencing. I should feel relieved. Somehow, I don’t.

Anti-Guardian sentiment continues to grow. Even though Jackal didn’t murder Brann, finding out that a Guardian was involved in illegal narcotic businesses in the City has only added to that. This has disillusioned a lot of people who looked up to them. Criminals are clearly growing more bold, taking advantage of how much manpower we are having to devote to quelling the unrest and preventing riots, and I’m already hearing rumors about people trying to fill the vacuum that this case created.

I walk the streets now and can feel a sense of unease and dread growing. Something is about to break. I just hope we can contain it and keep this City together.

…

Your Choice

“Guardian Jackal-9, step forward.”

Jackal rose from his seat, his glowing optics darting from one member of the Consensus to the next as he stepped into the open floor arrayed before them. The representatives of the three factions, City representatives, Commander Zavala, and Ikora Rey all stared down at him. He glanced at the empty seats that had belonged to The Speaker and Cayde-6. That last one left him with an odd feeling of shame.

“While you maybe have been found innocent of the murder of Albert Brann,” Commander Zavala intoned, “you are still accused of crimes unworthy of a Guardian, crimes you yourself have admitted to.”

Jackal’s head drooped, his gaze falling to the floor.

“Were this the only indiscretion in a long history of distinguished service, some members of this body might have found cause to be lenient with you.”

This brought the Exo’s head back up, his face plates shifting through various emotions.

“However, you have other reprimands on your record. Several other Guardians have had cause to find fault in your actions in the past. And we have to take other events into consideration. We have to show the City that Guardians are here to protect them. You violated that trust.

“As such, it is the decision of the Consensus that you be banished from the City and the presence of the Traveler. It has been many decades since we have had to take similar actions, and is not a decision we make lightly.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Jackal asked. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“That will be your decision,” Ikora Rey spoke up. “For your sake, we hope you make a good one.”

“You will be escorted to your quarters under guard so that you can gather whichever of your possessions you choose to take with you,” Zavala said, “then you will be escorted outside the walls. If you return…” the Awoken man trailed off, averting his eyes. “Well, it is best that not happen.”

The rest of the proceedings were a blur in Jackal’s mind. The next thing he knew he was surrounded by Guardians in non-descript black armor who led him away. A short time later, the same Guardians led him through the gates, which shut behind him with a loud clang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to post a few days late due to Halloween being super busy, and then not feeling well for a couple days. Didn’t have the time to write every prompt, but had fun doing this little challenge I set for myself. If I would have gotten to Boss Fight, we would have actually seen them take down the culprit. Sorry if the lack of that feels like a let down.
> 
> This idea mostly spun out of hearing idle dialogue in the Tower with someone complaining that “...the Titan said they would protect us…” and something about the Red Legion taking over. I referenced that dialogue in “Husky” as well. I was originally thinking of doing this as a full story, asking to borrow one of NetRaptor’s characters as the lead, but opted to go this way with it instead.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read along, those who commented, liked, favorited, or gave kudos. Now I can turn my attention back to finishing “These Walls Grown Cold” and “Dust to Dust and Memories.” Which means I probably won’t do Destcember this year so I can work on those, but… never say never.
> 
> Per Audacia Ad Astra.


End file.
